


The Trip of a Lifetime

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Minor Character Death, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29756085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Hermione's parents are gone and when she doesn't seem to be coping well Draco takes her well being into his own hands.She drinks. He drives. The trip of a lifetime.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16
Collections: Tag(line) You're It! Competition





	The Trip of a Lifetime

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Tagline_Youre_It_Comp_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Tagline_Youre_It_Comp_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> "She drinks. He drives. It's the trip of a lifetime." (Driving Lessons)
> 
> Part of the Tagline You're It fanfiction competition.
> 
> I had a much more lighthearted idea in mind when I originally picked this tagline, but my characters took me elsewhere. Thank you so much to my beta who will remain nameless for now.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis for Hermione. The sounds of the Healers talking seemed muffled all of a sudden. Brain dead; her parents were brain dead. She had brought them back from Australia after the war and had been working tirelessly with the Healers at St Mungo’s for the last six years. Sometimes it seemed like they were making progress, but lately her parents weren’t remembering anything, they couldn’t even remember their names last month. She was offered a trial spell that someone had worked on, and after she was told there were no other options, she accepted. But it didn’t work, in fact it had apparently made things worse because now they were brain dead.

“Hermione, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Draco was standing in front of her trying to get her attention. It was a bizarre friendship when it first started, but after he approached her to apologize when they both returned to Hogwarts after the war they had gotten closer. They had a lot more in common than they had realized, and while most of the students wanted to completely forget the war and move forward, they both struggled with the horrors of that time and knew it was important to talk through them. He even went with her to find her parents after school was over and had been with her every step of the way as the Healers worked, trying to reverse the memory spell she cast on them.

“I just…. I don’t think I understand. What are my options?” she asked the Head Healer on her parent’s case.

Healer Fleming shook his head solemnly, “we don’t have any options. They aren’t going to wake up from this Miss Granger; I’m so sorry. At this point, they’re being kept alive by potions and spells. We can continue to keep them in this state, or we can remove the care they’re being given and let them pass on.”

Hermione stood there and blinked at him. She had removed them from her life during the war and now, by her own selfishness to bring them back, she had removed them from their own lives.

“They wouldn’t want to stay like this. How much time will I have to say goodbye to them after you remove the spells?”

Draco touched her arm. “You don’t have to make this decision right now. You can take some time to think about this. It’s a big decision.”

She shook her head at him, “no, I don’t want to prolong this. They haven’t been themselves for years, they deserve to go on. Wherever that is, or whatever that means.”

“They will pass within a minute or so of removing the spells, now is the time to say your goodbyes.” The Healer said to Hermione.

He began the process while Hermione stood between them holding both of their hands. In truth, she had said her apologies so many times in the last six years; she couldn’t even count them. She silently told them both again how sorry she was for doing this to them and that she loved them. Tears ran down her face as they took their last breaths.

After a few minutes, Draco took Hermione’s hand and pulled her into the hallway. He held her face in his hands, wiping her tears away.

“I have to arrange things with the Healers and start to arrange their funer—“

Draco cut her off, “you will, but for now let’s get you out of here for a bit and let you process without a bunch of people standing around and staring at you.”

He took her down to the lobby of the hospital and Floo’d them both to his flat. She sat on his couch while he poured them both a large glass of firewhisky. He settled down next to her as he handed her the glass and placed a hand on her knee.

“Hermione, I am so sorry. What can I do for you? Can I help plan anything?”

She seemed numb, just staring blankly ahead. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to do any of this. I knew things weren’t going well, but I didn’t think it would go this badly.”

Draco looked at her with tears in his eyes; he hated seeing her like this. It was so out of character to see her look so broken when she was always so strong. “You know I planned my father’s funeral a few years ago, I can help make the arrangements for you, if that would help.”

“Okay,” she whispered so quietly he barely heard her.

Draco put everything together for her. He found plots that laid side-by-side, planned the flower arrangements, the wake, and the announcement. He found a place in muggle London, so that her parent’s friends who knew them before the war would be able to come. 

He came to pick Hermione up the morning of the funeral. She sat through the service every little noise just a consistent buzzing inside of her brain. The only thing she could remember was her parents being lowered into the ground. She accepted condolences from everyone who attended, but she couldn’t pay attention to their faces, just continuing to see their caskets over and over again.

Draco drove her back home that day, and she immediately poured herself a glass of wine and fell onto her couch. The silence was the only thing surrounding them for a few hours with Draco’s arm around Hermione trying to provide her some amount of comfort.

“Why don’t I make us something to eat? I’m sure you’re hungry, and you’re a wine bottle deep so you could use it,” he said with a smile trying to lighten the situation a bit.

She gave him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “honestly, I’m just really tired. I’m going to go lay down and sleep. Thank you for being with me today.”

She stood up, and he followed her lead. He hugged her, kissing the top of her head. “Of course; I’ll check on you tomorrow. Reach out if you need anything tonight okay?”

She nodded her head as she headed towards her room, and he Floo’d home.

Hermione continued on this way for weeks. Draco came to check on her every day after he closed up his potions shop in Diagon, and every day when he showed up at her flat, she was drinking wine on the couch and barely exchanging a word with him.

One day when he came to see her, she was sitting on the couch drinking straight from the bottle. He found a large pile of envelopes.

“Hermione, are you not checking your post? People are probably trying to get in touch with you.” He was trying not to sound annoyed, but she had pushed him to get back to a routine after his father died, and he needed to do the same.

Opening the first letter he came across, “this one is from Potter, he says he’s sorry he couldn’t be there for the funeral, that he was stuck in Romania and couldn’t get back in time. He said if you need anything to let him know and that if you want to get away you should come visit.” Draco rolled his eyes, he understood needing to get out of London after the war, but the way he barely spoke to Hermione was completely unacceptable.

He waited a minute before going to the next letter, giving her a moment to respond, but when she didn’t, he opened the next one. “This one is from the Ministry and it’s dated two weeks ago. Hermione, you should have opened this already!” Draco skimmed the paper quickly and moved his glance between the words on the page and the witch sitting on the couch. “Hermione, you’ve lost your job. They haven’t heard from you in eight weeks. Did you not tell them about your parents? Put in a request for time off? Nothing?”

When she still didn’t respond, he grabbed her arms and forced her up to look at him. “Granger enough! This has gone on long enough. Pack your bags, we’re getting out of here. I refuse to sit here and let you drink your life away. It’s okay to grieve, but this is not how you’re doing it.”

At the use of her surname, she finally looked up at him and showed recognition for the first time in weeks. “I don’t want to go on a trip. I’m not in the mood for a trip. I want to sit here and drink.”

“Fine. You drink, I’ll drive.” He stared at her. 

“The trip of lifetime,” she said sarcastically under her breath as she lumbered to her bedroom.

“I’ll be here in the morning to pick you up. Pack your bags or I’ll make you leave without them.” Draco yelled back at her. 

The next morning Draco pulled up to Hermione’s house in his dark green BMW convertible. He had been interested in muggle cars since their first trip to Australia when she rented a car from the airport. Once he learned about the luxury brand of cars, he knew he had to have one. He barely put the car in park before Hermione came walking out with a scowl on her face and her suitcase in hand.

“I am not happy about this,” she said as she shrunk her bag and placed it in the boot of his car.

He rolled his eyes, “you’ve made that perfectly clear.”

Draco took off in the car, and when he realized she wasn’t going to be speaking to him, he turned the radio on. He could hear her grumbling under her breath within the first thirty minutes of the drive.

“What could possibly be bothering you already?” He asked her.

She huffed again. “My hair is flying everywhere. This is why I hate when you put the top down in this thing. I can’t see; it’s in my eyes and mouth. How long are we going to be driving?”

“About five hours,” he answered.

“ _ Five hours _ ? I’m not doing this for five hours, Draco. Take me home.” She was angry, uncomfortable, and hated not being in control.

Draco sighed, and with a wave of his wand her hair started blowing perfectly behind her. “There, is that better? How often do you forget you’re a witch and can solve simple problems like this?”

He was pretty sure he heard her call him something rude under her breath. He just laughed and turned the radio up.

Hermione fell asleep, waking up as they were driving onto a ferry.

“Where the hell are we going that we have to take a ferry?”

“Why must you always ruin the surprises I have planned? We’re going to Belgium, you’ve always talked about it, and what better time now that you don’t have a job?” he said, scowling at her for her irresponsibility.

“Please don’t lecture me right now; I’m not in the mood.”

His face softened, “Hermione, it’s okay to be sad, but life has to continue… I’m sure we could talk to the Ministry about getting your job back.”

She bristled at him, “I do not want to talk about this. You said we were going on a trip so I’m here, but I’m not talking about my parents or anything else.”

Draco put his hands up in surrender, “okay. Let’s just use this time to get away for a bit then. Deal?”

She skeptically looked at him, “deal”.

  
  


When they finally arrived in Belgium, they were both exhausted. Checking into their hotel, they both fell into their beds, falling asleep almost immediately.

The next day they woke up and toured the Royal Palace of Brussels. Hermione seemed enamored with the gardens and the hall of mirrors. With how responsive she had been to the trip, Draco thought maybe they were making some progress, but when they got home from dinner, she began drinking more wine and laying on the couch once more.

He decided to let her wallow, she had at least gotten out of the house and lasted a day without drinking. There was more planned for tomorrow, and hopefully by the time they went back to London, she would be ready to actually deal with her emotions.

The next road trip was to Paris and the pattern continued. They walked around the city,had a good day, and then they would return to the hotel just for Hermione to drink herself to sleep again. Anytime Draco even remotely tried to bring up her parents, she would shut him down.

After a few days in Paris, they took a trip to Madrid, and it seemed the same pattern would continue again. On a particularly good day of touring the Prado National Museum, Draco thought Hermione might have turned a corner. She even told Draco about something that reminded her of her dad while smiling. They went to dinner, and it seemed like the witch that he knew was coming back to herself, until they got back to the hotel and she pulled out another damn bottle of wine.

Draco stormed over to her on the couch and pulled the bottle out of her hands.

“This is absolutely ridiculous Granger. We are on a cross-country road trip seeing amazing things, and you can’t stop drowning your sorrows in alcohol. It’s about time you actually dealt with your feelings instead of drinking yourself numb.”

Hermione stood up and reached for the bottle, but Draco raised it up and out of her reach. “Just hand it to me, Malfoy. You dealt with your father’s death, now let me mourn my parents the way I need to.”

She went to grab for the wine again, but he moved it even higher. “No. You wouldn’t let  _ me _ sit and wallow, and I’m not going to let  _ you _ either. This isn’t healthy, and it’s not what they would have wanted.”

This time when she reached for the bottle, he wasn’t quick enough and she grabbed it from him. As she tilted it back to drink, he looked at her angrily. “Fine, but I can’t sit here and watch you drink your life away. I just can’t. I care about you too much, so if this is what you’re doing instead of actually talking to me and letting me in then I have to go. I’ll get you a plane ticket to go back home tomorrow, so I don’t have to see you do this to yourself.”

He walked away and opened the bedroom door, but before he could walk through it, the wine bottle smashed against the wall beside his head. Wine splattered everywhere, and he turned to see Hermione breathing heavily and looking the angriest he had ever seen her.

“What the hell, Hermione?” he yelled, “you could have hit me with that.”

“Good! You don’t get to have some emotional outburst when I’m the one hurting. You don’t get to decide how I grieve my parents!”

He raised his voice at her again, “I’m not trying to tell you how to grieve, but I am trying to get you to actually live your life. I didn’t know your parents well, but I do know that based off of what you’ve told me about them that this is not how they would want you to go forward. You lost your job, you would have lost your flat if it wasn’t for me paying your bills, you haven’t talked to anyone except me in over two months, and the only reason you’ve done that is because I forced my company on you everyday. I fucking love you, Hermione, and I’m so sick of this, I can’t do it.”

He didn’t even realize what he had said. It had been six years of both of them hanging out almost every single day. Neither of them really dating anyone else, but neither bringing up any kind of feelings for one another.

Hermione stood there staring at him until it dawned on him what he had just admitted.

“I’m sorry, now isn’t the time for that. I just care about you. I want to see you be yourself again, even if that’s a different version of you now because of this loss. But it’s not this, you’re stronger than this, Hermione; you have to be strong.” He started to walk away again until he heard her yell.

“No! You don’t get to walk away now,” she started, but he cut her off.

“I get it, you’re mad about what I said, it wasn’t fair of me to bring that up now but—”

She interrupted him, “just shut up. I am so angry. Angry at everyone. I’m angry at Harry for just leaving me alone after the war, after everything we went through. I’m angry that we were supposed to be best friends, and he couldn’t even show up to my parent’s funeral—my parents that I obliviated to keep them safe, so I could run around and help him win a war. I’m angry at Ron for not being able to get over his ego when he found out we were friends and completely leaving me too. I’m angry at the healers for not being able to fix my parents. I’m angry at myself for taking them away from lives they were happy with in Australia. And I’m angry with you for waiting until now to finally say something about your feelings towards me.”

When she finished yelling, she was breathing heavy from the exertion of getting all of that out. She sat on the couch and started crying, finally letting out all of her grief. Grief from the loss of her parents, but also from everything the war took away that she never fully dealt with. Draco walked across the room and sat with her, holding her to his chest while she cried for hours.

When all her tears seemed to dry up, she lifted her head to look at him and placed a small kiss on his jaw.

“I’ve waited for years hoping you wanted more than a friendship. I want more, but I can’t right now. You were right; I need to figure out who I am now after this. I need to get my life back on track before I can think of any kind of relationship.”

He kissed her forehead, “I’ll be here to help through it all. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

She laid back down on him and as she started to fall asleep she said, “I was right, too, you know.”

He laughed, “you usually are, but about what exactly?”

“I said this would be the trip of a lifetime. It’s just a new kind of life now.”

He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her hand as they both fell asleep on the couch.

Things weren’t perfect, and they wouldn’t be for a while, but they had each other. 


End file.
